“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.”
―Brené Brown
A number of years ago, I kept an image journal during a period of personal deepening. It was an effort to break out of my typical word-based journaling, to maybe be less in my head and more in my feelings. I drew an image of a harpy-like bird that appeared to me in a particularly meaningful dream. At the time I thought that, if I ever took up embroidery, I would embroider that image to hang in my home as a reminder of the dream’s meaning.
Flash forward to fall 2020, and I finally accepted that I was unlikely to take up embroidery in any serious way. But, in the isolation of the year, I both craved connection and felt the need to be reminded of the original dream’s message. So I contacted an artist I follow on Instagram and asked if she would take on a commission. Of course, in order to successfully create the piece, Elena (the artist) needed to have context, to understand what the image meant for me. So, ignoring my feelings of artistic inadequacy and emotional vulnerability, I sent her a photo of my original drawing and a description of what the image meant to me.
What followed was a collaboration that took place in virtual spaces, through messages between a woman I’ll likely never meet who lives in Bucharest, Hungary, and me. Elena sent me concept drawings, we discussed what we both liked or didn’t like about the images, and we agreed on a vibrant color palette. There was give and take—Elena wanted to be sure she captured the image’s meaning for me, while I hoped that she would find artistic satisfaction in imbuing the piece with her own creativity.
When Elena sent a photo of the nearly finished piece, my first thought was, “It looks like a rainbow chicken.” Needless to say, that wasn’t the vibe either of us was going for! For some reason, though, it filled me with happiness. Every time I looked at it, laughter bubbled up. When Elena expressed misgivings about the work, I assured her that I loved its unique quirkiness. When she asked if I wanted her to embroider a quote on the back side of the finished piece, I immediately sent the following lines from Mary Oliver’s poem Starlings in Winter: “I want to be improbable, beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings …”
Our collaboration may have resulted in something that looks more like a multicolored fowl than a strong, empowerment dream image, but that is fine. The creature we made together, Elena and I, is definitely improbable but also beautiful and has wings. To create something together (acknowledging that Elena did the heavy lifting), we both had to place our vulnerable selves into the hands of a stranger. “Imperfections are not inadequacies; they are reminders that we’re all in this together,” says Brené Brown. For a little while, across land masses and an ocean, Elena and I were imperfect together.
As the world reflects on a full year of global pandemic—all the changes, losses and lessons it encompasses—we need every reminder we can get of that truth—we are all in this together.
… Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I wantto think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
As though I had wings.—Mary Oliver, Starlings in Winter
—Jenifer Hanson, Prairiewoods director